


On the Run

by razztaztic



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: AU backstory for Max Keenan, F/M, Gen, Original Characters - Freeform, foundation work for my 'Bones' universe, previously published on FFN
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27472420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/razztaztic/pseuds/razztaztic
Summary: What if the worst thing you could do was the only choice you had?  The story of Max and Ruth Keenan, and the day they disappeared.
Relationships: Max Keenan/Ruth Keenan
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

_December, 1991 . . . . ._

He was wandering rather aimlessly through the town's Christmas bazaar when it happened. The hair at the back of his neck stood on end in a feeling he recognized instantly.

Resisting the impulse to turn around, Max Keenan continued his meandering trek through the stalls and vendors, looking for a spot from which he could unobtrusively study the crowd. Finally, he found a music store with a rack of sale items arranged in front of a large window. He bent over the display and pretended to study the CDs and cassette tapes as he glanced into the reflection the plate glass provided.

His blood ran cold.

A face he hadn't seen in thirteen years – one he'd hoped never to see again – was in the crowd behind him.

For the next twenty minutes, the man known as Matthew Brennan pretended to be unaware of his silent follower and continued to act like any other father out shopping for last minute Christmas gifts. He made a few purchases and then headed away from the shops.

A silent warning blared in his head as he approached his car from the rear.

That damn bumper sticker. And if they trace the license plate . . .

Decision made, Max walked past his own car and kept walking until he noticed another vehicle left unlocked.

_Thank God for trusting souls._

Careful to keep his movements easy and natural, he opened the door, tossed the shopping bags into the back seat and slid inside, then bent over as if he were retrieving something from the glove box. Instead, his fast hands worked quickly beneath the dash to hotwire the car's ignition. When the engine roared to life, he sat up, glanced casually over his shoulder and pulled into the flow of traffic.

Within five minutes, careful scrutiny through his rear-view mirror picked up the car tailing him.

He drove slowly through the streets of the small town, carefully following every traffic law as he scanned his surroundings and waited for the right opportunity. That moment came as he approached a large, busy intersection just as the traffic light facing him turned yellow. At the last minute, he hit the gas and raced through the light. The car tailing him was trapped by the flow of traffic.

Max sped through one street after another until he was completely sure he'd lost his pursuer. A multi-story parking garage caught his attention; he turned in, quickly found a spot and raced into the connecting office building's lobby in search of a payphone.

A few miles away, Christine Brennan hummed softly as she hung the last of the Christmas decorations and stepped back to admire her work. The harsh buzz of a kitchen timer, followed almost immediately by the ring of a telephone, interrupted the moment of appreciation. Hurrying, she grabbed the phone from the wall and sped to the kitchen to remove a hot cherry pie from the oven.

"Hello?"

"Torpedo." The voice on the other end was harsh, low and insistent. "Hawkins Field, by the pond, twenty minutes. Alone."

For a moment, she stood frozen.

"Tor…Torpedo?" It had been thirteen years since they'd discussed that code word. Surely . . . Her head shook in denial. "No."

"Torpedo," Max repeated. "Twenty minutes. Alone."

"Alone?" Christine blinked in surprise as she tried to wrap her head around the shocking developments. "Why -"

"Alone."

The line went dead.

Christine's eyes blurred with tears as she fumbled for her purse and keys. When she had both in hand, she stood at the bottom of the staircase and with a deep breath, forced her voice into a semblance of normalcy.

"Tempe?"

"Yes?" The answer came from behind a bedroom's closed door.

"I have to go out for a minute. I . . ." Her throat closed, making speech impossible for several seconds. "I love you," she managed finally.

"Okay. Love you, too."

She gripped the keys in her hand hard enough to crack the simple plastic fob that dangled from the metal ring. After one last look around the pretty little house, she walked out, leaving the front door unlocked.

Ten minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot next to the small pond. Max was already there, standing on the bank, staring at the water. When he turned to face her, she was shocked to see tears streaming down his face.

Her heart sank.

When she approached, he pulled her into his arms and for a few minutes, they simply held each other. Suddenly, he pushed away from her and ran to the back of her car.

"Damn it!"

Without answering her sputtered demands for an explanation, Max held out his hand for her keys, opened the trunk and pulled out the tire jack. While she watched, he knelt on the rough pavement and scraped away all traces of the school's name from the bumper sticker that proclaimed their daughter's brilliance as a student.

"Matthew, what –"

The words faded away when he removed the license plate and replaced it with the one from the vehicle he'd stolen earlier.

She watched it all in disbelief.

"No, not now," she whispered. "Not now. Please, not now."

"They found us. McVicar is here." He slammed the trunk shut. "Get in the car."

The doors were barely closed before he pealed roughly out of the parking lot. To her surprise, instead of heading back to their little house, he drove toward town.

"What are you doing?" she asked in confusion.

"I'm trying to find the son of a bitch who saw me. He has to see us leave. He has to follow us."

His eyes flickered in a continuing circuit from the road in front of him to the side streets they passed to the rear view mirror.

Christine stared at him in shock. "What? Why do we want him following us? We should go home and . . ."

Her eyes opened wide in horror when she realized what he was doing.

"We're leaving the kids? We're just going to leave them?" Her voice rose hysterically as she broke down, sobbing. "No! We can't do that! Tempe's only 15! We can't just leave them alone! Why can't we take them with us?"

"Ruth!"

The use of the name she hadn't heard in thirteen years ripped away her last, faint hope that this was all something . . . else. A test. A joke. Anything other than the destruction of the life and home and family they'd managed to build together.

"Ruth, if they catch us, they'll kill us." His jaw was hard, his tone implacable as he forced the truth on her. "The only way to save the kids is to leave, to lead these guys away. We'll come back!" Max reached for her shaking hand and squeezed. "She'll be fine. Russ is 19, he'll take care of her. You know he will. And as soon as it's safe, we'll come back. I promise. I promise. We'll come back."

She didn't believe him.

"How do you know they'll be okay? How do you know McVicar won't . . . what if he gets to them? What if he finds them and hurts them? We have to protect them!"

Max shook his head. "They want us, not the kids. It was just bad luck that he saw me today. If the bastards knew more about us, if they knew where we were, we'd already be dead. This way, we lead them away, we get in the clear again and then we come back. When it's safe."

A glance in the mirror brought a look of malevolent satisfaction to his face.

"There you are, you bastard. Now let's see if you can keep up."

With a squeal of tires, he hit the accelerator and sped down the road to the interstate ramp.

Beside him, Ruth sobbed, fist in her mouth, her face turned to the window. Each mile that passed beneath the wheels was another mile taking them away from their children. Another hole from which her heart bled out.

"How did they find us?" she whispered raggedly.

"I don't know," came the grim answer. "But I'm going to find out."

.

.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been hours since he'd seen headlights when Max finally turned onto a barely visible dirt track. Even so, once he'd driven a few yards he pulled into a patch of rough grass, turned off the lights and sat in the dark, eyes glued to the two-lane road behind him.

Thirty minutes passed.

Nothing.

Satisfied, he started the car again. The narrow, dusty drive ended at a large clearing that comprised most of the front yard for a two-story, wood-framed white farmhouse. As he rolled to a stop, a dog barked once. Keeping a cautious eye on the curtained windows staring down at him, Max carefully opened his door, got out and stood quietly with both hands up, palms facing out.

It seemed a lot longer than the ten minutes or so it actually took before he saw movement in the house. The front door swung open slowly, accompanied by the sound of rusty hinges. The hulking outline of a man appeared, his face and features hidden in the shadows.

"It's three o'clock in the goddamn morning, Keenan. You lookin' to get shot?"

Max smiled as a wave of relief eased the tension in his shoulders.

"Nice to see you, too, Bird."

"Huh." The response came on a snort. "You alone?"

"Ruth's with me."

"Kids?"

"They're . . . somewhere else."

There was a beat of silence.

"Guess you better get in here then, before one of the boys gets a twitchy finger."

Max nodded. "Ruth fell asleep a few miles back. I'm just going to open my door and make sure she's awake."

He followed the words with slow, deliberate movements as he bent down to look inside the car, not knowing and even less interested in finding out how many guns might be trained on him from the barns and outbuildings surrounding the house.

Ruth was already awake, her eyes red and swollen from the tears she'd continued to shed. She got carefully out of the car, too, and remained still until Max came around the front of the car and held out his hand for her. Together, they crossed the dirt-packed yard.

Bird yelled over his shoulder without taking his eyes off Max and Ruth. "Minnie! Get your ass down here!"

Almost immediately, the sounds of someone thumping down the stairs reached the couple standing in front of the house.

"Stop your yelling, I can hear just fine. Been awake since you started all this racket."

The large shadow that appeared behind Bird stepped into what little light filtered down from the moon and became a woman with tight grey curls and a friendly, open face. Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Well, I'll be . . . Ruth, honey, you look like you've been drug backwards through a split-rail fence. What's wrong?"

Ruth dropped her face into the palms of her hands and sobbed.

Minnie was at her side immediately, wrapping the distraught woman in a soft hug as she pulled her up the stairs. A dog lying in the middle of the top step impeded their progress. "Get outta my way," she grumped, as she nudged it with a slippered foot. "Come on in, honey, and tell me what's got you all worked up."

The two men watched as the women disappeared into the depths of the dark house. When they were gone, Bird crossed his arms and glared at Max.

Deliberately nonchalant, Max grinned and gestured to the dog.

"Good to see Tick again."

Bird snorted for the second time.

"Hell, boy, Tick's been dead almost as long as we thought you were." A resigned sigh lifted the man's heavy shoulders. "I guess you better get in here and tell me what kind of goddamn bullshit you're gonna get me into now."


	3. Chapter 3

Max shared his story as the two men sat together at a kitchen table scarred by years of daily use. Bird shook his head and picked up a steaming cup of coffee. His eyes were sharp on the other man.

"Damn, boy, you sure did get yourself in a pickle, didn't you? What do you have on these people anyway? And don't tell me nothing, because they wouldn't be huntin' you for nothing."

Max returned Bird's stare without speaking. After a moment's pause, the old man nodded.

"Yeah, well, it's probably best I don't know." He shook his grizzled head. "I warned you, didn't I? When you hooked in with 'em? I told you they were bad news. I told you you'd be sorry. You never would listen to nobody, though. Always thought you knew better your own damn self."

Max's shoulder slumped in defeat.

"I wanted out of the grift, Bird. Kyle was getting old enough to figure out what we were doing, and it was just time. I thought if we could just get a couple of big scores, we could get out. You know, live like normal people. That gang was raking in cash so . . ." His jaw clenched as he stared into the depths of his coffee. "I just wanted to make a little extra money and get my family out."

Bird cut to the chase. "So what do you need from me?"

"Papers. A place to stay for a few days."

"Money?"

Max shook his head. "No. We have enough stashed. We just have to disappear for a while."

"Hard thing, taking a woman away from her babies." Bird caught his lower lip between his index finger and thumb and stared intently across the table.

When Max looked up, his expression was bleak. "I told Ruth we'd go back."

Bird sat back in his chair with a sigh. He crossed his arms over his chest and pushed his chair up on its back legs.

"You lied, boy. One of two things just happened. First is, they never stopped looking for you and finally found you and if that's the case, they ain't gonna stop now 'til they find you again. Second possibility is they did stop looking for you and just got lucky today. If that's the case and they done found you once by accident, they'll put some muscle behind it now. Either way, they ain't gonna stop looking for you again." His chair dropped back to the floor with a thump. "You wanna keep those kids alive, you can't go back. Sooner you and Ruth make your peace with that, better off you'll be."

"Max?" Ruth spoke from the shadows of an archway leading deeper into the house. She stared accusingly at her husband. "You promised we'd go back. You promised!" Her words ended in a shout.

Pain and regret etched new lines into his face. Max stood and turned to face her. "Ruth . . ."

"You promised!" She flew at him, sobbing, punctuating her words with blows from bunched fists. "You son of a bitch, you promised! This is your fault! It's all your fault! It was your idea!" She struck hard against his chest and arms. "That gang was your idea! You made this happen! It's your fault! It's your fault!"

He allowed her to hit him without raising a hand to defend himself, accepting the abuse as his rightful punishment, until her fury became grief and she sagged into his arms. He rubbed her back and blinked away his own tears.

"I'm sorry, Ruth. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"We have to go back, Max." The broken whisper was muffled against his chest. "We have to. She's only 15. You know what she's like . . . She's different, we can't just leave Tem -"

He interrupted her before she could say the name they'd used for their daughter for 13 years. A note of warning was in his voice. "Joy will be fine," he said, carefully emphasizing the name they'd given her at birth. "Kyle is with her. Kyle will take care of her."

Behind them, Bird nodded. He said nothing about the half-spoken name. A smile crossed the weathered old face.

"If your boy is with her, Joy will be okay. Did you say she's 15 now?" Ruth's nod was barely noticeable. "I'll never forget her sitting on my lap, reading the newspaper, and not even two years old. Read better than me, truth be told." He gave a bark of laughter. "She still that smart?"

"She's brilliant." Max looked at Ruth as he answered, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Well, then, you just take some comfort from that. If you want to keep her alive, that's about all you can do."

Bird stood up and pushed his chair beneath the table. The sound of the legs scraping against the hardwood floor was loud in the otherwise quiet house.

"You can sleep here tonight," he told them. "Tomorrow the boys will take you to the safe house and you can stay there while I work on your papers. Shouldn't take more than a couple of days." He gave Max a rough pat on the shoulder and nodded toward the steps in the corner of the room as he walked out. "Spare room is up there. Try and get some rest."

When they were alone, Ruth laid her head against Max's shoulder and let the tears flow again.

"I'm sorry, Ruth."

The insignificant words were all he had.

"I'm so sorry."


	4. Chapter 4

"I've told you everything I know."

Temperance's voice was pitched so low, the two police officers had to lean forward to make out her words.

"I got home from school at the same time I always do. My mother was hanging Christmas decorations and making dinner. I went upstairs to do my homework." She took a deep, shaky breath and focused on the hands gripped tightly in her lap. "The phone rang. She told me she was going out. I heard the car leave. I just thought . . ." She swallowed. "I thought she was going shopping. When I finished my homework, I came downstairs and she was still gone." Her shoulders began to shake. "She didn't come home. And my father didn't come home." Her downcast eyes slid in the direction of where Russ sat. "My brother didn't come home either."

Officer Williams glanced down at his notes, then looked at Russ. "And you were with . . . "

A grimace filled with self-loathing twisted his lips as he watched his sister. "Denise Miller. I'll give you her number. Tempe . . ."

He reached toward her but stopped when she flinched away.

"We've located your father's car." The name on the other officer's badge read TATE. He named a small town just outside the city limits of Chicago. "It was locked. There were no signs of anything unusual. We haven't found your mother's car yet."

When the Brennan children sat there without speaking, the two policemen exchanged a glance, then stood up.

"If you remember anything else, any detail, no matter how small, give one of us a call." Tate's sympathetic voice was quiet. "We'll be back in touch as soon as we have new information."

Russ saw them to the door and stood watching as the black and white police car backed out of the driveway. When it was gone he turned back to Temperance. Guilt sat heavily on his shoulders when he saw her slight body rocking back and forth.

"Tempe." He spoke softly as he took a seat beside her. "I didn't know. You believe me, right? I would have been here if I'd known Mom and Dad had . . . I would never have left you alone if I'd known. I swear."

Jaw clenched, she stared in the opposite direction and refused to answer or look directly at him. Russ reached for her clenched hands, taking small comfort from the fact that she allowed him to touch her.

"Tempe . . ."

Her red-rimmed eyes stood out in her pale, drawn face when she turned to him at last.

"Where are they, Russ? What if something happened to them? What if . . . what if . . ."

He hugged her close, blinking back his own tears when she laid her head on his shoulder and sobbed. "Stop. We're not going to think like that. They're okay, I'm sure of it. Maybe . . . maybe they had a flat tire somewhere or . . . or . . ."

"Without finding a phone somewhere? Without calling us?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know. But the police will find them. They'll find out what happened. We have to believe that."

They sat there quietly, unmoving, long after her tears dried and the light in the room had disappeared with the cold winter sunshine. Finally, Russ took a deep breath.

"We should eat. Come on."

Tempe followed him into the kitchen, past the cheerful holiday decorations they both ignored. Russ pushed her into a chair at the table and then busied himself making sandwiches neither of them really wanted. She forced down a few bites and managed to drink half of the glass of milk he poured for her before she shoved the plate away. Knowing it would do no good to urge her to finish the sandwich, Russ quietly cleared the uneaten food away.

A freshly made cherry pie sitting on a cooling rack next to the stove caught his attention. He looked back at his sister.

"Looks like Mom was baking before . . ." He bit off the words and tried again. "I love her cherry pie. Do you want me to cut you a slice?"

Tempe burst out of the chair. A primal scream erupted, dragged from the depths of her pain and fear, as she reached for the pan and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a crash, splattering in a colorful jumble of cherries, pie filling and crust. For one frozen minute, she stood there, breathing in heavy pants, staring at the sticky mess. Then she burst into tears and ran from the room. Heavy, stomping footsteps marked her passage upstairs.

Shocked by the abrupt violence of her actions, Russ stood paralyzed. By the time he reacted, it was too late. Her door slammed with enough force to set the tinsel on the brightly decorated Christmas tree swaying.

Shoulders slumped, he began to clean up the gooey wreckage oozing down the wall.


	5. Chapter 5

Even after the stress of the previous 24 hours, neither Ruth nor Max slept that night in any sense other than a momentary loss of consciousness followed immediately by abrupt wakefulness. Tense and on edge, they stayed in the small room above the kitchen until the sounds of the morning reassured them that others were finally about.

Minnie hovered over them, filling plates of food that went untouched and refilling their coffee after every sip. Bird ate his breakfast in silence. When he was done, he sipped the last of his coffee and looked at Max over the rim of the cup.

"Boys'll be ready to take you to the safe house about noon. I'll have your papers by tomorrow morning."

Max nodded. "I have to go into Rankin, so that gives me time to get there and back."

The old man looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"Do you think that's smart? You should probably stay here, out of sight."

Max shook his head. "Can't. There's something I have to do before we leave again."

Bird smacked his lips against his teeth, clearly unhappy. Finally, he shrugged. "I guess it's your funeral."

As the couple prepared to leave a short while later, Bird stopped Max with a hard grip on his shoulder. With his other hand, he offered a 9mm handgun.

Max hesitated.

"Take it. Best be prepared, just in case."

Jaw tight, Max accepted it with a nod. He tucked the weapon against his back, where it would be hidden beneath the heavy coat he wore.

In the car, neither he nor Ruth spoke. Max glanced toward the passenger seat repeatedly but she refused to meet his gaze, making a point instead of staring out the window at the dead, frozen winter fields outside. At an intersection marked with a right-pointing arrow and a sign that read "Rankin, 15 miles," Max turned left.

It was Ruth's turn to frown.

"You told Bird we were going to Rankin. You don't trust him?"

"I trust him." He and Ruth locked eyes for a moment. "As much as I trust anyone right now."

No further words were exchanged until they reached a bank in Homestead, where they waited in a private room for a safety deposit box they'd hidden there a decade earlier. From it, Max retrieved a set of identification papers that not even Bird knew about. New IDs in hand, the couple crossed the street to a second bank and there executed a series of financial transactions that transferred a large sum of money into accounts opened under their new names.

Errands done, they were returning to the car when a man stepped out of an alley between two office buildings and blocked their path.

"Keenan." The snarl in McVicar's voice matched the one on his face.

Max and Ruth immediately spun away only to be halted again by the presence of a second man looming behind them.

McVicar pushed his coat aside to reveal the rusted barrel of his favorite weapon. The threat was clear even before he spoke. "Let's take a ride."

With no other obvious choice, they led the two men to their car. Following his captor's terse order, Max opened the back door and slid in next to the still silent second man. The feel of metal at his back reminded him of the gun Bird had given him that morning.

McVicar forced Ruth into the front seat, then got behind the wheel and glared at Max through the rear-view mirror.

"You know what I want, Keenan," he said. "You can get out of here a free man if you just give me what you have."

Ruth's bitter laughter filled the car as she glared her hatred at the man beside her. "You'll never let us go."

McVicar faked shock. "Ruth! You don't trust me? I'm hurt." The smile he gave her was pure evil.

After that, the drive continued in silence for several miles. McVicar took them down a winding country road that trailed off into the shadows of a stand of trees. He stopped the car just short of the small forest and angled his body to glare at Max as he placed the muzzle of the bolt stunner directly on Ruth's temple.

"You've got a choice, Keenan. Give me what I want or I'll cover you in your wife's brains."

As Max stared into the cold, flat blue eyes, the helpless terror he'd felt since first seeing McVicar's reflection in the music store window burned away, replaced by a red tide of implacable fury. His breathing slowed as silence roared in his ears. When the man beside him began to shift, Max acted immediately.

In one swift series of moves, he reached with his right hand for the gun at his back and at the same time, thrust his left elbow into the throat of the man beside him. Bone crunched as the man's larynx fractured. As if time had suddenly come to a frozen stop, he watched McVicar's eyes narrow with threatening intent.

Fear lanced through him.

"Ruth!"

Trapped by the seat belt, she tried to twist away at his shouted warning but it was too little, too late. McVicar pulled the trigger.

Max heard his wife scream, saw blood rushing through her fingers as she grabbed for her head, heard the man next to him gasping for air as he clawed at his throat. In a flash, he had the gun in his hand aimed at a spot between McVicar's eyes.

A bolt stunner was no match for a 9mm, and they both knew it. Max, however, wasn't taking any chances.

"Toss it back here," he ground out.

The weapon landed at his feet.

"Ruth?"

She nodded, whimpering in pain as she rocked back and forth and tried to staunch the flow of blood through her fingers.

With the gun still trained on McVicar, Max reached across the gasping man next to him, opened the door and shoved him out. With an expression devoid of emotion, Max slid out next then jerked open the driver's door and dragged McVicar into the dirt. The thuggish face twisted as he knelt there, staring up at Max.

"You're dead, Keenan. I will hunt you down and kill you, I promise you that. And your kids." A cruel smile touched his lips. "I'll take Owens with me, let him have some fun first." His head jerked in the direction of the man gasping beside the car. "How old is Joy now? He likes 'em young."

Without hesitation, Max pointed his gun at Owens and fired.

"Now he doesn't."

McVicar blinked in shock.

Max stepped closer and pulled his head back, forcing the still warm barrel of the gun into his enemy's mouth.

"You think I won't protect my family, Vince? The only thing keeping you alive right now is that you're going to go back and give your friends a message for me."

McVicar gagged as Max pushed the barrel deeper.

"Leave us alone. I've kept quiet for thirteen years, and as long as my family is safe, it will stay that way. If I see one of you, even by accident, the game is over. If I hear you've tried to find my kids, I'll find all of you, one by one, starting with you." Max tugged hard on the thinning hair. "There is no hell so deep I won't find you," he whispered with a menacing hiss. "Do we understand each other?"

McVicar's teeth rattled against the gun in his mouth when he nodded.

"Good." Max pulled the gun away, stepped back and swung it at McVicar's head. The scalp split beneath the blow, splattering blood over the coat Max wore. He didn't notice and didn't care. Instead, he wrapped a fist in McVicar's jacket, hauled him up to his knees and hit him again. The hired killer, knocked out cold, dropped to the winter-hardened ground.

Ignoring the dead body of Owens, Max slid into the driver's seat beside Ruth. She was slumped against the door, unconscious. He tilted her head slightly to get a better look at the wound. There was a bare, white line of scalp showing through her blood-soaked hair.

"I'm going to get you to Minnie," he promised frantically. "Everything's going to be fine. You'll be fine. I promise."

Suddenly remembering the bolt stunner, Max stretched behind him and reached for it, unconsciously smearing McVicar's blood against the seat. He laid the primitive weapon in the empty space beside him, started the engine and turned the car back down the lane.

Back at Bird's, Max threw caution to the wind and raced down the dirt track. Brakes squealed as he pulled to a stop; he was out and around the car to Ruth's side in seconds, racing toward the house with her limp form hoisted high in his arms. Bird met him on the front porch and with a sweeping gesture of one hand, silently ordered men Max never saw to lower the weapons he could feel trained on him.

Minnie, standing just inside the door, gasped at the sight of Ruth covered in blood.

"I think she was just grazed," Max panted, as he brushed past her on his way to the living room. Once there, he laid his wife gently on the couch.

Minnie shoved him aside.

"Get out of the way! Let me look at her!"

Max stood watching as Minnie prodded and cleaned, until Bird got his attention with a touch on his arm. He followed the older man into the kitchen.

"McVicar." He replayed the events of the morning in terse, clipped tones.

Bird stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"Was he alone?"

"He is now." He offered no further explanation.

"Where did you leave him?"

After listening to Max's description of the road, Bird walked quickly to the front door and spoke to a man who stood on the porch, just out of sight. Loud, heavy boots clomped away.

"The boys are going out there to clean up," he said, when he returned to Max. "Won't be the first time we've buried somebody no one'll ever miss."

Just then, Minnie called from the next room and Max rushed to her side.

Ruth was awake and groggy, propped up on the sofa with the aid of pillows.

"She should be fine," Minnie said softly. "She lost a chunk of hair but it looks like that old stunner just slid right along the side of her head. "

Max sat down next to his wife and pulled her into his arms. He was still sitting there, gently rocking to and fro, when the screen door opened again. The low murmur of voices reached him before Bird spoke up again.

"Your car needs to be got rid of. The whole front seat is covered in blood."

"The keys are still in it."

Snatches of the instructions Bird gave to his men reached Max and Ruth.

". . . run it out of gas . . . Jersey, if you can make it . . ."

The screen door slammed. A car pulled away.

And then all was quiet.


	6. Chapter 6

The whispers followed her everywhere during that last week of school before the holiday break. Even more than usual, she kept her head down as she walked through the halls between classes, trying to ignore the muttering and the curious looks from her classmates and teachers.

_" . . . parents disappeared . . ."_

_" . . . . . dead, probably . . ."_

_" . . . been two weeks . . ."_

As the days wore on, the voices became louder and the tone of the whispers grew darker and less sympathetic. The other students stopped trying to hide their opinions from her.

_" . . . she probably killed 'em . . ."_

_" . . . heard she and that creepy janitor cut them up and buried them . . ."_

_". . . bet they ran away on purpose . . ."_

_" . . . she's so weird . . ."_

Tempe survived the never-ending week by focusing intently on the upcoming exams, using every minute she wasn't in class to study material that she already knew by heart. If her classmates hoped she would break down in front of them, they were disappointed.

Her brittle composure cracked only once, when Mr. Buxley stopped her between classes with a soft touch on her hand. Seeing the tears that immediately threatened to overflow, he quickly drew her into the small janitor's office and awkwardly patted her shoulder as she sat hunched over, sobbing. Unable to find the right words, he was just quietly there, offering her the simple comforting balm of his unassuming presence.

But if school was bad, home was in some respects worse.

Russ watched her move wraith-like through the empty rooms, barely eating and speaking even less. He chaffed at the sense of helplessness that filled him when he came upon her sitting on the bed in their parents' room, crying silently. Even worse, however, were the nights he woke to the sound of her weeping in the darkness, when he could only lie there as fear and anger and frustration washed over him.

He tried to help. He forced her to eat. He forced her to go to school each day when she would have shut herself in her room. He forced her to look at him, to listen to him as he tried over and over again to reassure her.

He tried, Russ told himself. He tried to reach her but found each attempt rebuffed as she withdrew further behind the walls that only grew higher as each day ended without news of their parents. She didn't yell or scream or curse. She just . . . wasn't there.

.

.

Christmas morning dawned under a cold, vivid blue sky. Temperance woke slowly, with a familiar heaviness behind her eyes that testified of her restless sleep. The faint hint of music drifting through her closed door knitted her eyebrows together.

_Christmas carols?_

Suddenly, she sat up and threw off the heavy quilt.

"Mom! Dad!"

She raced down the stairs, grabbing for the banister when her sock-clad feet slipped. She ran into the living room as hope lifted her heart for the first time in weeks.

Russ knelt by the tree busily arranging a few small packages. He looked up when she rushed in, and greeted her with a tentative smile.

"I found some things Mom and Dad left . . ." He swallowed and gestured to the brightly wrapped gifts. "They were in the garage. It looks like Mom managed to get a little shopping done before . . ."

As the truth sank in, Temperance swayed on her feet, her face pale and bloodless.

Alarmed, Russ was by her side instantly. "Tempe . . ."

She jerked away from his helping hands. Heartbreak turned to fury.

"Don't touch me! Do you think you can make Christmas? Do you think I want Christmas with you? "You're not Dad! You're nothing!" Her voice rose hysterically; she began to shake as tears fell. She picked up one of the brightly wrapped presents and threw it at him. "Nothing! I don't want your presents!"

Russ dodged the small box, his hands held out in supplication as he tried to explain.

"Tempe, I wasn't trying to . . ."

"Stop treating me like a baby! Mom and Dad are gone! They're dead and you . . ." Her eyes blazed hot. "Why are you still here? Why are you here and they're not? Why wasn't it you?"

Russ ignored the cutting barb. "Tempe, I'll take care of you, I'll . . ."

Mania edged her shrill, brittle laughter. The look she gave him was full of loathing.

"You can't take care of me! You can't even take care of yourself! Mom and Dad would never have left me alone with you! They don't trust you! I don't need you anyway! I can take care of myself!"

Despite knowing the words came from her pain, anger flared hot.

"No, you don't need anybody, do you?" Russ sneered. "You don't care about anyone else either, so why don't you go back upstairs and stick your nose in a book? It's not like you care what's going on anyway! What are your books telling you now, Tempe? What do all those books say about kids whose parents run off and leave them?"

Appalled, he heard the words coming out of his mouth and wanted immediately to take them back. Horrified and apologetic, Russ reached out again.

"Tempe, I didn't mean that. You know I didn't. . ."

She backed away from him, tears swimming.

"I hate you," she whispered bitterly. "I wish you were gone, too. I'd be better off without you."

She turned and raced back up the stairs to her room. The door slammed behind her.

The merry lights from the Christmas tree twinkled in a playful dance as Russ stood at the bottom of the steps, hoping his sister would reappear again. When several long minutes passed with no evidence of movement above, he hung his head in defeat.

Temperance was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling through dry, gritty eyes, when a car's engine roared to life outside. She flinched at the sound but stayed where she was as the hours stretched out until finally, hunger forced her downstairs again.

The house was quiet and empty. She heated a can of soup and collapsed into a chair at the table while she tried to force it down. When she couldn't manage another spoonful, she pushed the bowl away but stayed there, hands resting limp in her lap, and stared at nothing.

The sun slowly made its way across the winter sky until it disappeared into the western horizon, leaving the kitchen dark.

Temperance Brennan laid her crossed arms on the table in front of her, put her head down and cried.

.

.

.

Eleven days later, suitcase in hand, she stood in front of a weathered wooden door almost completely stripped of paint, accompanied by a harried, overworked social worker wearing a suit ten years out-of-date. When it opened, the social worker urged Temperance across the threshold. The house smelled of old grease and the cigarette dangling from the mouth of the grimy woman standing in front of them.

"Temperance, this is Mrs. Forrester. You'll be staying with her for the next few weeks until we find something more permanent."

Speaking around her cigarette, Mrs. Forrester led them down a narrow hallway to a thin, stained door that when opened, revealed a rickety staircase lit by a bare light bulb sticking out of a socket in the wall.

"You got your own bed in the basement. It gets a little damp down there but there's a humidifier if you want it. It mostly works."

"You mean a dehumidifier." Temperance corrected the blowsy woman automatically. "A dehumidifier removes moisture from the air."

Mrs. Forrester stared at her, then with a rough hand on her shoulder, pushed her toward the stairs. "That's what I said, Miss Smartypants," she sneered. "A dehumidifier. Now go on and make yourself at home while I talk to the social worker."

The door closed with a thud, forcing Temperance to take two quick steps down to avoid falling. She hesitated for a moment, looking back as she tried to distinguish words from the murmured voices on the other side. Finally, she gave up.

With her face blank and devoid of all emotion, she picked her way to the thin metal cot that was her new bedroom.


	7. Chapter 7

_Seven months later . . ._

.

.

Max found her sitting on the porch swing of the house they were using that month, pushing it slowly with one foot as she stared off into the trees. He deliberately let the door slam shut but Ruth gave no sign to indicate she'd heard the noise or even knew he was there. Shoulders hunched, he took a deep, silent breath and sat down beside her.

Several minutes passed before she spoke.

"Today is her birthday. She's 16."

"I know."

Her voice was rough with unshed tears. "I wonder if she's celebrating. Do you think Russ knows that he has to make this special for her? Sixteen is important to a girl . . ."

"Russ was 16 once himself," Max reassured her. "He knew a lot of 16-year-old girls. He'll make it nice for her."

"Yes." Ruth glanced at him briefly before her head swiveled back toward the trees. "Yes, Russ will take care of her."

The moment stretched out as they continued to sit in silence in a swing that swayed slowly back and forth. Suddenly, Ruth turned to her husband.

"I want to go into town, to the camera store," she blurted. Her face pleaded with him as great, shining tears threatened to overflow. "I want to rent a video camera and . . . I want to tell her happy birthday. I have so much to tell her. She's only 16 . . . ."

Max shoved aside fears of being seen again and nodded immediately. "Okay. That sounds like a great idea. We'll do that. Do you want to go now?"

"Yes," Ruth answered, as if afraid he might change his mind. "Right now."

.

.

Forty-five minutes later, Max returned to the car with a rented video camera and a blank VHS tape.

"It's charged and ready to go," he smiled. "Just like you wanted."

Ruth squeezed his knee in thanks as he settled behind the wheel.

Max pulled out of the parking spot. "Where do you want to do this? In the living room? On the porch? As long as we don't show a house number or anything identifiable, we should be fine."

Rut shook her head and pointed toward a park visible just beyond the next traffic light. "No. I want to be outside, so she knows we're safe. Over there. That's where I want to go."

He found the entrance easily and quickly located an empty parking space. Video camera in hand, he followed her lead as she searched for just the right spot from which to record. Finally, she saw a large bent tree that offered a picturesque, shaded place to sit.

"Here," she decided, as she glanced over her shoulder at the people walking their dogs in an open grassy field. "This looks good, doesn't it?"

"It's perfect. I'll just stand right here and . . ."

She interrupted him quickly. "No, I want to do this alone. I need to, Max. I just . . . I need to."

"Okay, sure. Whatever you want." He kissed her forehead and gave in without argument. He pulled a large enclosed trash can close to the tree and set the video camera on top. After spending a few minutes adjusting the angle and focus to make sure Ruth would be in the shot, he stepped aside and gestured to a bench a few feet away. "I'll just wait over here, okay? Just wave when you're done."

Suddenly nervous, Ruth smoothed her hair and glanced down at the brown skirt and long, purple blouse cinched around her waist with a dolphin belt. "Do I look okay?"

"You look beautiful," Max reassured her gently. "You always look beautiful." He gave her arm one last comforting squeeze and left her alone.

When he was far enough away, Ruth smoothed her hair once more, turned the camera on and backed up until her knees hit the tree. When she began to speak, her voice was even but her tremulous, wobbly smile betrayed the anxiety she couldn't hide.

_Hi, Temperance. It's Mom. I don't know when or if you'll ever see this. I hope to put it in your hands myself and see you again with my own eyes but this is a hard, hard world._

She took a deep breath.

_Your father and I left you and Russ to save your lives. People would have killed you to get to us. But that's not what this is about. Today is your 16th birthday. I'm so sorry not to be there to tell you all the things that a mother should tell her daughter when she turns 16 . . ._

Her voice broke as she struggled to maintain control. When she was composed again, she held the ring she'd been given on her own 16th birthday up to the camera.

_And I'm sorry not to give you this. It's an heirloom from my side of the family, and starting today, it's yours. I don't know how long it will take me to get it to you, but I promise you I will._

_You're going to hear a lot of things about your parents, especially about your father. He's a good man. It was my insistence to leave you kids. Max would have kept us together, fought until the end. I'm not sure he'll ever forgive me for that._

Voice trembling, she blinked back the rush of hot moisture that filled her eyes.

_Please, Temperance, I need you to forgive me and if you can't forgive me, I beg you, honey, forgive your father because he is a very good man. And remember this - you were cherished in this world. Adored. What I did to you may have been wrong but I did it out of love. I did it out of love._

Unable to speak any more, Ruth broke down as tears fell uncontrollably. Max was there in an instant. He switched off the camera then sat down next to her, pulled her into his arms and tucked her head firmly against his shoulder. When she had nothing left, he looked into her face.

"Why did you tell her it was your fault, Ruth? You shouldn't have done that. We'll delete it and you can record it again."

She shook her head sadly as she cupped his cheek in one hand. "No. She'll blame you, Max. I'm her mother, she'll forgive me before she will forgive you." Her eyes welled again. "One day, when she has children of her own, she'll understand why we did what we did but until then, it will be easier for her if she thinks it was my fault.

He argued further but it was no use. Ruth stubbornly refused to delete the video and record another, more truthful version. Finally, he gave in and they walked together back to the car.

As he put the key in the ignition, she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Promise me that one day, Temperance will get the tape and her ring," she begged softly. "Promise me that you'll make sure she gets them."

He nodded.

"I will, Ruth. I'll make sure she gets them. I promise."


End file.
